Growing up in mid-town India in the lazy 1980s, when dreams were smaller and luxuries differently defined, the sound of firecrackers in the distance could mean only two things: It was either Diwali or the Indian team had beaten Pakistan in a cricket match somewhere in the world.
Such occasions, though, were few and far between. The balance of power on the cricket field was clearly tilted in the favour of our neighbours and "sworn enemies". The ultimate abuse back then, at school or on the street, was to call someone a "Pakistani".
But in spite of this irrational custom, which perhaps stemmed more from habit than from venom, the desire to appropriate Pakistan's cricketers remained. We didn't like to admit it openly, but we loved the dashing Imran Khan, the pesky Javed Miandad, and even the disco-dancing Abdul Qadir.
It was only on a couple of occasions in the mid-'80s, and then in the early 2000s, when the cricket equation was gradually shifting from a declining Pakistan to a rising new India, that matches between the two teams were truly competitive. Otherwise, it was always a one-way street, usually going Pakistan's way. And on one occasion when we did come close, that too in the finals of a big multi-nation tournament in Sharjah, the last-ball six by Miandad was a psychological blow that people of my vintage still haven't fully recovered from.
So when I travelled to Pakistan for the first time with the Indian team for the 2004 tour, with the baggage of history and the weight of suspicions on my shoulders, the two months I spent there were life-changing. Just as you can never tell how differently you would have turned out if you hadn't watched Star Wars as a kid or listened to Pink Floyd as a teenager, though you do know that it did have some impact; the 2004 tour affected the touring party in ways we can't fully explain. Right through the tour, we witnessed love, harmony, fraternity - not to mention the free cab rides and the invariable two extra dishes sent with the chef's compliments - that gave way to a very comfortable sense of normalcy.
Cricket became a backdrop to celebrate our similarities and toast our differences, and "koi masla nahi hai" became the tagline of the trip. The lesson was that there are bigots in both countries, as we know only too well, but cricket is meant to unite, just as politics is expected to tear people apart.
Everyone knows India has never lost to Pakistan in the World Cup, and while they are eager to keep that record intact, Pakistan is determined to get the monkey off their back. On February 15, when the two meet in Adelaide to rekindle their World Cup rivalry and their common affection for this crazy game, let the match be about intensity, not antagonism. This is not war, it is cricket. And let's not even give it a narrative larger than it deserves - if India beats Pakistan, they will not have won the "real" World Cup and if Pakistan finally manage to win, they won't have suddenly resurrected their cricketing legacy.
But some things don't change. So if you are unable to watch the game on TV, and your radio is broken, and your 3G network is down, and friends aren't taking your calls to tell you what's happening, just walk on to the street and listen. Firecrackers will mean India have won, and deathly silence that Pakistan's World Cup jinx is broken.
#Cricket, #India-Pakistan, #World Cup 2015 #Cricket With INN
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